Mentalist Episode Tag: Red Velvet Cupcakes, 5x20
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Set post episode. Lisbon notices a growing tension between Jane and her. Humor and a hint of Jisbon. Spoilers, 5x20. Rated T for language and adult innuendo.


A/N: Great episode, really! Oh my goodness—those first few minutes of the show were fabulous. A new twist on one of Jane's classic crime scene readings, and a loaded Jisbon moment. Wow. Loved their tension in the car while listening to the radio show. Loved Lisbon's surprise at the "platonic love" comment. And to top that off—Rigspelt! Yay!

So this tag didn't turn out like I thought it would at all, lol. Let's just say, the lovely Jisbon of the episode inspired me. I hope that turns out to be a good thing.

**Episode Tag: Red Velvet Cupcakes, 5x20**

Lisbon wasn't quite sure what it was, or when things had changed precisely, but there was a definite tension humming below the surface of the good old CBI offices lately. Of course, it had to be something to do with Jane, she thought morosely. He was, like it or not, the center of their universe, around which she, the team, the FBI, and even Homeland Security seemed to revolve in varying proximity. Not to mention a serial killer and his minions.

She worried that Jane spent too much time in his attic staring at his Red John board. She worried that he had set his hopes too high since Lorelei's vague clue about him having shaken hands with the murderer. Then again, she hadn't seen him quite this consistently cheerful in well, _ever_, and that too, was cause for worry. Because there was still that indefinable…_tension_.

She tried to attribute it to Jane's feeling that Red John was within seven degrees of separation, that Jane was seven steps closer to discovering his identity. He was excited about this, and if he turned out to be right, she couldn't blame him for his continued good humor. Ten years of his life had been devoted to this end, and he deserved to find justice at last. She didn't want to think now of how that might happen, what might be the fallout, and perhaps that was another source of tension, at least for her.

And then there was the personal tension between them, the new and different pull she'd felt since she had begun to look at Jane as a sexual being, since she'd found out he had slept with Lorelei. She admitted to herself she was jealous. Not that she thought she and Jane would ever—but he'd broken his celibacy with that murdering bitch? It still rankled. She'd seen it as a personal betrayal, even though she recognized (now) that he'd only done it to get closer to Red John. It really had felt like he'd been cheating on her, and much as she'd tried to overcome it, the feeling was still there, and the tension settled in her shoulders and neck whenever she thought about it.

_It's nice to be needed. Anything for you, Lisbon._

When he said things like that, that opened up an entirely different can of tension.

"Lisbon," came the familiar voice from her office doorway. She had thought he was long gone like everyone else on their floor. He peered around the doorframe as if testing the air before entering.

Lisbon knew she must be blushing, having been caught thinking of him, so in a desperate attempt to distract him from that, she gave him her most brilliant smile, dimples blazing. Jane stopped in his tracks to stare a moment, nonplussed, then his eyes narrowed.

"What is it, Jane?" she asked boldly. "I'm trying to finish some paperwork."  
For some unknown reason, and much to her relief, Jane decided to let her off the hook. Or so she thought.

"I've been thinking about your fetish, Lisbon, and I believe I have narrowed it down to…this." And he brought a small paper bag from behind his back, presenting it to her with a flourish.

She stared at the bag in horror, especially when she saw Jane's accompanying grin of mischief.

"Take it," prompted Jane. "You know you want to."

"Like I said before, this is totally inappropriate and unprofessional."

"Shouldn't you open the sack first before you make that assumption?"

"No. I'm not in the mood for your games, Jane."

"Chicken."

Her lips tightened into a straight line, but she sat stubbornly, making no move to take what he was offering.

"You're afraid of what's in there, which tells me that you must have a fetish small enough to fit into a paper bag. I promise you it isn't a turtleneck," he teased.

"Give me that," she said in annoyance. Lisbon was no coward. She grabbed the bag from his hand.

The moment she took possession, the scent of cinnamon and almonds wafted up to her nose, and she blushed anew. _Bear claw_. He really did know her too well.

She opened the paper bag gently now, fearful she might have crushed her favorite pastry in her anger. Jane chuckled in delight at her constantly changing expressions. He really didn't understand how she was such a good poker player.

"Thanks," she said around a mouthful of Danish.

He took a seat across from her desk and enjoyed watching her eat, a blissful expression settling upon her features. She made a few noises of ecstasy, sounding for all the world like her switch was definitely flipped. He swallowed hard, but hid it well.

"You're more than welcome. I figured you hadn't eaten in hours."

He was right, of course, and she nodded, reaching for her cold cup of coffee. She took a sip anyway and tried not to grimace.

"I wonder what Rigsby and Van Pelt are doing right now," Jane said conversationally. Lisbon stopped chewing.

"I don't want to know," she said, mouth full.

"I'll bet you dollars to bear claws they're—"

Lisbon raised a free hand. "Seriously, Jane. I don't want to know this time. So if you discover they're up to anything against CBI rules, please, for the love of God, keep it to yourself."

"Hey, you can't blame me for last time. They came to you and confessed."

"Well, tell them confession isn't always good for the soul." _At least not for mine._

Jane grinned. "My, what a difference three years can make. I have to say, Lisbon, I like this new you. You now dwell in a world full of gray areas instead of strictly black and white, like when we first met."

She fished out the napkin he'd helpfully supplied inside the bakery bag and dabbed at her lips, swallowing a bite before setting down the bear claw.

"I suppose," she said, really feeling some tension now. "On some things."

"But you now think interoffice romance should be allowed?"

"I think I'd take a don't ask, don't tell approach, unless it interferes with the job. How's that for gray?"

He nodded patronizingly. "Very good, Lisbon."

"Still," she added thoughtfully, "I don't know how someone could be romantically involved with a person on the same team, not in a job like ours. If it were me, I'd worry constantly about the safety of that person whenever we had to go into a dangerous situation."

"Well that's the risk you take if you allow any kind of close relationship with a team member—even with _platonic_ relationships." He smiled as her cheeks grew rosy. "I know you worry about the team as if they were your family. What's the difference?"

"Romance is complicated enough without it interfering with your work too."

"Poppycock," he said, with a dismissive waft of his hand. "You've watched too many sitcoms, Lisbon. Mature, respectful relationships are certainly possible in the workplace, if the couple sets some ground rules. Take you and me, for example."

Lisbon choked on her bear claw. She reached blindly for her nearly empty mug and swallowed it down, while Jane waited patiently for her to regain control of herself. When he saw she wasn't choking to death, he continued: "Were we to engage in an office romance, we would certainly be able to maintain the same professional demeanor we always have, am I right? I don't see that changing."

"Jane-?"

"Yes, I'm right," he continued, ignoring what he knew was the beginning of a lecture about hypothetical conversations. "Number one would have to be, no shenanigans in the workplace—well, no indiscreet ones." He waggled his eyebrows wickedly.

She dropped her half-eaten pastry back in the sack, appetite suddenly lost.

"I can't believe we're talking about this."

"Number two would be that we don't take work home with us. Work stays at work, play stays well, in the bedroom. Unless everyone is out of the office, of course."

Her hands went up to cover her face in a childish effort to hide, which Jane found wonderfully endearing. He grinned.

"There it is again, that Catholic prudishness rearing its ugly, guilty head."

"I'm no prude," she protested. "And for an expert on human behavior, you really missed the mark."

He raised an eyebrow. "I did, eh?"

"Yes."

Jane scooted to the edge of his seat. "Prove it," he said, and the tension level between them shot through the roof. "Tell me your real, honest-to-your-God fetish."

She recoiled. "No. Absolutely not."

He didn't have to call her poultry this time; he just gave her a familiar, pointed glance.

She sighed in exasperation. "Fine. But then will you leave and let me finish my bear claw in peace?"

"Sure." He actually rubbed his hands together in anticipation, drawing her eyes to them. "Shoot."

"Not something you should say to a girl with a gun," she muttered. "Okay, the thing that really gets me is…well…hands."

"Hands?" He was terribly disappointed.

"Yes. Strong, graceful hands with long fingers. Very dexterous and clever. The hands of a doctor or a pianist or even"—she avoided his eyes—"a magician."

"Well. Okay. Interesting." He slapped his thighs by way of conclusion, and rose to leave. "Bye, Lisbon."

"What? You got what you wanted and now you're just leaving? Typical man."

"You asked me to leave, Lisbon, so here I am, leaving. Sheesh, you're never satisfied. Typical female."

"Well, the least you could do now is tell me yours. Everyone has a fetish of some kind, or so you said. Not that I care personally," she hedged, "just call it the desire to embarrass _you_ for a change, and maybe store up some blackmail material."

"Sorry, There's only one way for you to find out that valuable information, and this is neither the time nor the place."

"Get out of my office," she said through clenched teeth.

"I'm goin'. I'm goin'."

"And for the record," she called to him as he entered the corridor. "I lied. _Hands_? Ha! Can't believe you fell for that old cliché."

He came back to her office. "Oh, you weren't lying," he said, making a point to hold out one hand, flexing the long, graceful fingers and gesturing with them dramatically. Her eyes helplessly followed his every move.

_Damn the man anyway_.

She met his twinkling eyes angrily, and reached instinctively for something to throw at him.

"All right, all right, settle down. Since you showed me yours…mine is…angry women."

"Well then you must be extremely turned on right now."

His eyes widened at her, then he let out a bark of amusement.

She really hadn't meant to say that. She flushed scarlet and he laughed harder than she'd ever heard him.

"Oh, go to hell," she said, but her lips quirked with the desire to join in with his merry laughter. He'd set her up but good.

And just like that, the tension she'd been feeling drained out of her, only to be replaced with something infinitely warmer. His eyes softened at her, and she knew he felt it too.

"Good night, Lisbon," he said with a wink and another dramatic flourish of his hand.

She rolled her eyes and gestured meaningfully with the stapler. He grinned, but after he left, she listened to his whistle echo down the empty corridor.

**A/N: Okay, I know this was all over the place and a little silly, but hey, I had fun writing it. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review and let me know.**

**I can't believe there are only two episodes left for the season!**


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